Ave Maria
by SilentSerenata
Summary: Deception is like a disease. In the city of London, one murder leads to many more, and a maid bears witness to her mistress's cruel death. "They ate her..." SebastianxOC?
1. Melody 00: Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Kuroshitsuji. Obviously, cause my name isn't Yana Toboso.

**Thought Bubble: **Funny how an English assessment could turn into a Kuro fanfic :D

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**A v e M a r i a**

[Forsaken Memories]

_- SilentSerenata_

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_**I tremble  
They're going to eat me alive  
If I stumble  
They're going to eat me alive**_

_**Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?  
Beating like a hammer?**_

**Melody 00: Prologue**

Fred Abberline grimaced at the sight before him, the taste of disgust choking on the verge of his tongue. Never had he been so horrified and despite the fact that the young Scotland Yard officer had seen his fair share of cruelty, nothing could compare to this.

Before the man realised, a crowd had gathered around the alleyway and murmurs of suspicion were spreading like fire. Security was bustling to and fro, and Abberline noted how his police co-workers were having troubles in attempting to pry away the mass of curious onlookers, all of whom were hoping to earn a glimpse at the body and perhaps the victim's identity. But it truly was an ugly sight and Abberline for once, wished he could be part of the crowd; his own face cringed in repulsion and his optimistic smile long gone. The word 'gruesome' was impossibly incapable of even describing the murdered body that lay at his feet, and if not for the handkerchief which he held dependently to cover his mouth, he doubted he could have even breathed. Luckily, Abberline managed to distract himself from the disturbing sight by turning to the man on his right who coughed poorly.

"Chief," addressed Abberline as he handed a small stack of papers, fresh with black ink, to his superior. "The report on Lady Cecilia Grace's death." Uncertainty was evident in the officer's voice but nevertheless, he continued. "Sir…Is it alright for you to be moving about so much? You've only just recently recovered from your-" The man's remaining words were left unsaid for his response was already given: a sharp glare from his fellow Chief, Sir Arthur Randall.

The older man of the two, Sir Randall, examined the papers with a quick glance, mumbling words to him as he did so. "Cecilia Grace, the Duchess of Burnswell who came to visit London...Age eighteen...Time of death, approximately midnight...Cause of death, unknown..."

Displeased, the Chief uninterestingly disregarded the information and nonchalantly approached the dead body – or what seemed to be a body for its limbs had been mortified to the point that it no longer remained recognizable. One could have almost mistaken it as garbage if not for the pools of drying blood splattered across the cobble street. That, and the decapitated head of a blonde woman whose left eye had been removed from its socket.

"Go call a doctor," demanded the Chief as his eyes twitched in anxiety, "We'll need a professional to identify these..._body parts_. Or whatever is left of it."

"Yes, sir," responded a fellow policeman, his desperation to leave clearly obvious.

Although Fred Abberline was no specialist in terms of biology, what he was able to determine from the body was that its murderer was no particular brute. The extent, in which the woman was torn, was simply far too complicated to have possibly been accomplished by even the most crazed of psychopaths, or anything humane at that. For there, on the skin of an arm, were pieced holes which could only be distinguished as marks – _teeth marks_ to be precise_._ The Chief, too, seemed to have realised this as the shock became evident in his widened eyes. It was at that moment did the two men both question one thought: _"Who and what in the world did this?"_

Disgusted yet intrigued, Abberline couldn't help but to stare at the body when one particular whisper from amongst the crowd caught his attention. "This makes it the third kill...Don't tell me it's another Jack the Ripper."

The officer couldn't have agreed more.

"Although we weren't able to gather much regarding the details of the murder..." Here, Abberline hesitantly paused before further continuing his speech, mentioning to a young girl as he did so. "...There was, however, one witness: Elise Marie, one of Lady Cecilia Grace's personal maids."

At the new information, the Chief's ears perked. Indeed, next to the dead body, sat a girl no older than the age of fifteen, splattered in the same blood as her mistress. It was a shocking sight, even more so since he had been so horrifically fascinated with the body that he hadn't even noticed the other beside it. It had been hours since the initial discovery of the murder and yet the child's lilac eyes remained paralyzed in fear. Though it was only understandable, considered Abberline, given the horrified, ugly state in which Lady Grace now lay in.

"Has she spoken ever since?" inquired Randall, though he had already figured the answer. However, before Abberline could even respond or be given the chance to, a soft but choked voice spoke - a voice which both men could only identify from one particular child.

"_They ate her..."_

_**Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer  
Hard to be soft  
Tough to be tender  
Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train  
Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer  
Beating like a hammer**_

_**- "Help I'm Alive" by Metric **_


	2. Melody 01: Ignorance Is Bliss

**Disclaimer: **SilentSerenata does not own Kuroshitsuji.

**Thought Bubble: **I realised whilst writing this, that it was harder than I thought, to name the exact colour of Ciel's hair and eyes. As far as I can pinpoint, it's a shade between blue and green; it's getting harder to differentiate since the producers are confusing the two within the anime. Speaking of anime, Kuroshitsuji has finally ended D: *insert echoes of fangirl cry* I doubt they'll make a comeback with a Season 3 since 2 only ended with 13 episodes. But omgawd, noooo. They just had to end it like that. Though I'm a bit sad about the ending since Sebastian seems to be suffering, I'm still curious as to how Ciel would continue to live his life afterwards. The producers really did it this time. They're probably expecting fans to be gnawing at their doorsteps by now, begging to release another episode or so.

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**A v e M a r i a**

[Forsaken Memories]

_- SilentSerenata_

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_**Fly, sway, go all the way  
I'm in the same fate with you  
I feel your beat all around  
Wandering in the everlasting way**_

**Melody 01: Ignorance Is Bliss**

The young Earl stirred from within his bed sheets as the tall figure clad in black graciously crossed the room and drew open the curtains. Upon the sudden outburst of light into the dark room, midnight-green hair could be seen sprawled across the pillow followed by a small pale hand slowly emerging from beneath the sheets. Its owner was no more than a child who had only just awakened from his sleep, the downiness still evident within his petite body and cobalt-blue eye. It was only an eye, for the other was shrouded behind strands of disordered hair, though a glimpse of lustrous pink could be slightly seen between the gaps as the young boy groggily attempted to adjust to the illuminating light.

Standing beside the noble's bed was a man dressed in a black butler's attire. Within the morning sunlight, the pin in which he wore gleamed brightly on top of his breast pocket as it displayed a coat of arms only distinguishable as the renowned "Phantomhive". A scented aroma soon filled the room as the butler elegantly poured a cup of tea, before calmly stating, "A poached salmon with Greek salad has been arranged for your breakfast. Toast, scones, and French pastries have also been prepared as an accompaniment." The black butler smiled, one of which would have killed any lady's heart, as he handed the fine China cup to the young child. "Which would you rather today, Young Master?"

The addressed Earl softly yawned before replying with a mumble, "Scones."

"Of course."

Now wide awake, the young boy nonchalantly accepted the drink before sniffing its contents and sampling its taste. The black butler noted the flicker of recognition within young boy's eyes as he drank the tea, questioning with concern, "Is it not to your taste, Young Master?"

"No," responded the Earl. "It's just...surprisingly sweet. Black Rose*?"

"Yes."

"Hmm..."

No sooner had the Earl finished his cup of tea, had he been stripped from his sleepwear and into his typical suit: a white blouse adorned with a blue ribbon, a blue overcoat and shorts, followed by a pair of black socks and matching heels. As he slipped into these clothes and his butler securely tied a blue bow around his neck, the boy couldn't help but to think that the ribbon was almost like a collar – a collar which tied him to many aspects, such as his butler who often proclaimed he was "one hell of a butler". But nevertheless, the young noble dismissed the ridiculous thought though his hand subconsciously reached out to touch the bangs which hid his right eye. The butler's smile seemed to widen at the small boy's action, before turning to attach an eye patch on top.

"My apologies for disturbing your peace, Young Master, but _this_ arrived this the morning."

The said master eyed the butler before focusing his gaze upon the tray in which he openly held, or rather, the folded paper that sat within. There at the centre of the letter, as he had expected, lay the stamp of an all too familiar insignia. Curious as to what its contents beheld, the young Earl pried open the letter and contemplatively read through its words.

"Sebastian," commanded the Earl, "Prepare for a carriage; we're leaving."

"Yes, my lord."

_Elsewhere..._

Light footsteps echoed throughout the hallway before halting in front of a door which read 'Room 102'. The brunette, who had approached the door, slowly drew in a deep breath as to calm his racing nerves, and then reached out to grasp the brass knob. Oddly, he was more anxious than he had anticipated; his palms only growing sweatier with the heat of the confined hospital. Was it because he was going to see _her_?

With a defeated sigh and a creak which followed, the wooden door of Room 102 parted to reveal the face of none other than Scotland Yard's Inspector apprentice - Fred Abberline. The said man cautiously stepped into the room, fearing that even the tiniest of his movements would disturb the child who peacefully slept on the hospital bed at the centre of the room. The officer questioned, uneasiness evident in his voice, "Anna, is she going to be alright...?

A young lady – presumably of the same age – turned to face the man, a spark of hostility momentarily flickering within her maroon eyes as they clashed upon dark brown. She was no doubt, a doctor of the hospital as her white coat and the folder in which she held, identified her profession. Her blonde tresses which were tied into a bun, plus the black glasses sitting on the bridge of her slim nose, only implied it further. But despite her angelic appearance, a fierce glare had manifested on her face. It was obvious the lady was not pleased in seeing the Inspector. With a slight push of her glasses, the doctor said in her casual though serious tone, "Fred Abberline. Must I always remind you to knock first before you enter? Honestly, you should really fix that habit of yours." In the light of the room, the lady's glasses gleamed as she once again pushed them from slipping off her nose. "As for the girl...Physically, yes, she's fine. Though she has a cut on her chest, it's not serious. As for her emotional stability..."

Abberline nodded, understanding very well what the doctor was implying. The child was traumatized. Thinking of the girl, who now lay in bed, sleeping, reminded Abberline of the situation that she was found in the previous day before. Involuntarily, his body shivered; he would never forget that scene: all that splattered blood and above all, those eyes. _Her eyes_. It saddened him just much as it scared him.

"Well, at least she's alive..." proclaimed Abberline, slightly reassured by the fact that the child was no longer in harm. For now.

"You shouldn't be so relieved, Abberline. For as far as you know, she could be the culprit for murdering those women within the past few days."

"Anna!"

"What?"

"We don't have any evidence that proves that."

"Yet."

The officer opened his mouth - ready to retort - but stopped when he realised that the lady was in fact, quite right. For a moment, only the heavy breathing of the sleeping child could be heard as the two adults stood in a short silence before the man questioned: "Must you always be so cynical Anna?"

"It's called being realistic."

"That's -"

"Enough. The two of you, stop. Have you forgotten that you're supposed to be currently working? Not bickering at one another like immature children; Fred Abberline, Anna Arenstein."

The two swivelled to face the source of the voice which had so suddenly interrupted their little conversation, surprise clear across their faces as they exclaimed in unison, "Chief!" "Sir Randall!" Indeed, there at the door of the room stood none other than Sir Randall - a man otherwise known as the Chief Inspector of London's Scotland Yard. It was the doctor who first welcomed the new guest, coughing in attempt to dismiss her blushing embarrassment. "My deepest apologies Sir Randall. We were merely having a...slight reunion between childhood friends."

The Chief was not pleased by the lady's excuse, but regardless, he asked "How is the girl?"

"She's fine. Just a light cut, that's all."

The Chief nodded. "I see. Notify us again after she's woken up. We'll question her then."

The command was confirmed with a push of the female's glasses, which had again slipped from their rightful position. "Very well."

"Then," exclaimed the Chief as he courteously bowed before the doctor, "We'll be taking our leave. Let's go, Abberline."

"Eh? Already? But -" The apprentice was silenced by his superior, or to be precise, by his superior's glare. Sensing the threat, the younger officer stammered at his own words. "Y-Yes Sir!"

However, before the two officers could turn to leave, the female abruptly halted them from doing so as she proclaimed, "Please wait a moment, Sir Randall." Though her words were polite, her sharp stare seemed to say otherwise.

The addressed man, like any other gentleman, turned to face the lady. "Is there something which requires my abrupt attention?"

"Yes," replied the female doctor, "Yes there is."

"And what might that be?"

Abberline awkwardly laughed within the background as he felt the tension run between the two. "Um...S-Sir..." His timid voice was unheard as his protests were ignored by his audience. "A-Anna..."

"It's about Madam Red."

The room fell silent. Not understanding as to why his childhood friend would question about the queen of social gatherings who always garnished herself in red, Abberline was more than confused. Oblivious, like the man he was, he had no idea as to where the conversation was heading. "Madam Red? As in the doctor Angelina Durless?"

"She was my professor in medical arts and I was her apprentice," informed the doctor, "And she died a month ago."

The bliss which had momentarily appeared on Abberline's face instantly faded as he heard the doctor's words. Unknown as to how he should comfort, let alone approach the lady, Abberline responded awkwardly, "I-Is that so? I was never informed..."

But the lady seemed calm about the idea of her educator's death, but stated "Neither was I. I was only told so yesterday."

"And may I ask how this involves us, Doctor Arenstein?" interjected Sir Randall.

"Rumours say that she died from an accident like that of her former husband but there has yet to be any factual explanation as to why, where or how she died. It's suspicious...As if someone had almost erased all the information regarding her death and replaced it with false implications."

Sir Randall, who unlike his subordinate, was well aware of the topic. Replying with his all too familiar, irritated tone, the Chief Inspector said to the lady, "It's unfortunate, but I don't know anything either. Sorry but I don't have the time right now to be meddling about a woman's death when already three others have been killed."

Abberline, shocked by his superior's attitude exclaimed loudly "But Sir! If you think about it, there isn't actually any evidence -"

"But I will tell you this, Anna Arenstein," said the Chief, "Stop chasing after the dead. There are some things better off not knowing."

And with that said, the Chief finally left Room 102 along with his apprentice who hesitantly trailed after, leaving behind a terribly confused doctor.

_**Forever  
Tears fall, vanish into the night  
If I'm a sinner  
Chivalry, show me the way to go**_

_**- "Overnight" by Aya**_

* Tea made from a floral orchid base, tropical mango and papaya

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For all those who haven't realised, this story is set after the Jack the Ripper case but prior to Ciel accomplishing his revenge. Simply said, this follows more of the manga than the anime. I do apologise; this was a bit rushed. It's already 1:18 and I've got work tomorrow at 8

Thanks for reading anyways ^^ I look forward to your reviews ~


	3. Melody 02: Ignorance Is Bliss Part 2

**Disclaimer: **SilentSerenata does not own Kuroshitsuji. Original credit goes to Yana Toboso.

**Thought Bubble: **So I haven't updated in months. Again. Sorry.

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**A v e M a r i a**

[Forsaken Memories]

_- SilentSerenata_

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_**My hands are searching for you  
My arms are outstretched towards you  
I feel you on my fingertips  
My tongue dances behind my lips for you**_

_**The fire rising through my being  
Burning I'm not used to seeing you**_

**Melody 02: Ignorance Is Bliss, Part 2**

_**Andante Moderato.**_

It was almost noon and London seemed restless.

But despite this, the young child - or to be more specific, the young nobleman – manoeuvred effortlessly through the busy crowds with a tall, black-haired man in a black butler's suit following at his behind. As they traveled down the city's streets, the clicking of their heels against the cobble floor seemed to overwhelm the chattering noise within the background, just as much as their presence did. Soon enough the child and the black-haired man neared the alleyway responsible for the previous night's unfortunate events, and at the notice of their arrival, the surrounding bystanders parted their way for the two.

It did not take long for Sir Randall, who stood suffering a fit of sudden coughs, to realise the disturbance himself. Turning to inspect the cause, the Yard officer was met with a sight which he, upon seeing the two, scowled in irritation for there was only one reason as to why _he_ of all people would make such a public appearance.

"Long time no see, Sir Arthur Randall."

Ciel Phantomhive. The Queen's Dog.

Displeased by the boy's presence, Sir Randall greeted through his obvious annoyance, "What are you doing here?"

The young boy smirked, a characteristic which Sir Randall deemed to be a habit of his. As if having anticipated the question, the child reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, revealing the red, royal insignia of the Queen. The Chief spared the stamp a quick, and though unnecessary, glance before continuing to glare at the child from behind his squared spectacles. Even without the letter of authority, Sir Randall was well aware of the Queen's favour towards the boy; he was no fool. Although the Chief highly regarded the Queen, Ciel Phantomhive, however, was a different matter. His dislike towards the boy was absolute, and his visits with the Earl didn't seem to help either.

'Tch. He's purposing showing off that letter, waging that tail of his just like the dog he is.'

Dismissing the letter aside, the Chief nevertheless questioned the young nobleman's purpose, although in truth he had already known the answer. "And?"

"I've been requested by the Queen to resolve the issue regarding London's most recent deaths."

"So you've come to investigate the crime scene?" The Chief grunted. "Your meddling isn't needed here. Scotland Yard is already working on the case."

For a moment, silenced ensured the two. The surrounding crowd, too, had ceased their gossiping and grown quiet at the two's conversation. The Earl, ignoring the Chief's hostility, turned his attention to the blood splattered across the ground. A pale hand was seen to be peeping out from underneath white sheets covering the remains of a dead woman's body.

"Is that the corpse?" demanded the child before forcibly bypassing a bewildered Chief as the noble and his butler approached the victim.

Ignoring the opposing shouts from the Chief inspector, the boy poked – almost playfully – at the sheets with the end of his skulled, black cane (something which Sir Randall believed honestly wasn't aiding much to his growth). But the moment the Earl had stated his command, Sir Randall realised much to his dismay that his protests would all result in vain. In which it did.

"Sebastian," demanded the child as if knowing one word alone would communicate his thoughts.

But somehow it did and Sir Randall would have gasped if given the chance. The man who was only momentarily standing behind the Earl had moved so swiftly that it seemed almost inhuman. In less than a second, the trio's tresses were rippling in a sudden gust of wind as the black butler quickly but elegantly removed the sheets, revealing once again the horrid sight of Cecilia Grace underneath. Onlookers gasped - some choked - as they again bore witness to the mutated corpse, and instantly shielded their eyes against it, turning their heads nervously elsewhere. Was Ciel Phantomhive horrified or astonished, Sir Randall saw no visible signs of discomfort and instead there laid a deadly stoic, serious expression on his childish face. One which almost made Sir Randall shiver at how calm the Phantomhive could be. Almost.

Amidst the awkward silence, the Earl nonchalantly commented, "Quite the brute - the murderer that is."

"Died at approximately midnight, aged eighteen, the victim was Lady Cecilia Grace, the Duchess of Burnswell. As for how and why she died, the reports only state it as 'unknown'."

Sir Randall tore his gaze away from the child and turned towards his butler whowas reading the pages of the report which Sir Randall's subordinates had only gathered that morning. The officer's annoyance returned at once and gave a sharp glare towards the policeman who stood not too far from the trio – the very same policeman who had been told to look after the very same papers which were now in the possession of the Phantomhive butler. Sensing the Chief's murderous intent, the said policeman gulped.

"Unknown?" The poker face had yet to disappear as the Earl remained unfazed by the body. "But no matter you look at this, it is undoubtedly a murder. The wounds are far too much for a mere suicide."

"It would seem so that way," replied his butler, Sebastian.

Sir Randall was anything but pleased as he watched the two. Inhaling a deep a breath, the officer then loudly proclaimed "Now wait just a moment Ciel Phantomhive. If you want information, go elsewhere and stop interfering with the Yard's- are you listening to me?"

No, the Earl was anything but listening to the Chief's rants. Instead, he continued to stare at the scene before him and as if on cue, something from the corner of his eye caught his attentions. His pupil sparked in a new profound curiosity like that of a child that had been given a new game to muse with and questioningly, he raised a finger at the object. "Sebastian, what is that on the floor?"

Detecting the change in the Earl's tone, Sir Randall, too, turned to gaze at what had captured the Earl's interest, forgetting that only moments ago he was attempting to shoo the same boy away. There, as the Phantomhive had mentioned, between the crevices of the cobbled street where the victim's blood had managed to seep through, laid a strand of long, red hair. It was hard to discern seeing as it was small and thin, and not to mention, coloured similarly to the blood.

Perhaps it was only his imagination but oddly for some reason, the strand of hair seemed to be sparkling…?

"Red hair?" said the Earl, though to no one in particular. "Why would a long strand of red hair be here at the crime scene?"

"Perhaps the murderer left it behind?"

"Possibly…"

Familiarity dawned upon Ciel Phantomhive and his butler Sebastian Michaelis as they both eyed the new fascination, their concern towards the body gone.

But Sir Randall was far from willingly to hand over the new piece of information to the two. "You standing over there!" he yelled to one of his fellow subordinates, "Hurry up and take this for inspection! It might turn out to be a valuable asset!"

"Y-Yes sir!"

Preoccupied, the Chief of Scotland Yard failed to hear the exchanged murmurings between the Phantomhive heir and the Michaelis man.

"Sebastian, you don't think…"

"As much as I'll like to, that strand of hair is…"

"I suspected just as much. Only that… _thing_ would have such blinding red hair which actually sparkles."

"Then should we go and visit _him_ then?"

"Seems like we've got no choice. At times like these, he's the only one who actually has any decent information." The young boy smirked. "Sebastian, ready your entertainment."

"Yes Young Master," replied the black-haired man as he smiled widely in what seemed to be confidence.

When the two finally finished their secret little talk, the Earl and his butler turned to face the Yard officer, both with an amused smile printed on their faces.

"Sir Arthur Randall." The said man swiveled to face his addressor. "I appreciate your help in our investigation but as it's a busy day today, we'll be excusing ourselves. Then, until we meet again Chief."

The older man, dumbfounded, stared as the two retreated from the alleyway. His eyes thinned in suspicion for the child, who liked to seek his fun by often toying with the Chief, left so peacefully without having to be arguably forced to. So why the suddenly change?

"Chief!"

Hearing an all too familiar voice call out to him, a voice which Sir Randall could only identify as Fred Abberline, the Chief dismissed his earlier suspicions for more worrisome matters at hand- that, being his apprentice. In the distance, Sir Randall saw the young man running towards him, stumbling a few times in the process. More than twice, did Abberline accidentally bump into others and apologized so. Sir Randall sighed at how idiotically naïve and oblivious his apprentice was, and before long the said man finally managed to reach his mentor's side.

After having regained his composure, Abberline courteously bowed to his superior, warmly greeting him with a "Good morning – Ah! I mean, good afternoon Sir!" There was an apologetic laugh from the younger man and soon his momentary embarrassment passed. "Just now, was that Ciel Phantomhive?"

Sir Randall eyed Abberline. It seemed that even now, Abberline's interest in the Earl of Phantomhive had yet to disappear. The image of his apprentice rummaging through old files of past cases flashed in the back of his mind.

'Going so far as to investigate about his background…'.

Sir Randall would never forget that night. He remembered exactly how determined his apprentice was to unriddle the Earl's dark identity when Scotland Yard had been informed of the close of the Jack the Ripper case. Thinking back to that moment, when Abberline had never been so desperately curious to know who or what had determined the serial killer so easily when Scotland Yard themselves had not, Sir Randall couldn't help but to consider how similar Abberline and his childhood friend Anna Arenstein were.

_"It's about Madam Red."_

_"She was my professor in medical arts and I was her apprentice, and she died a month ago."_

"Some things are just meant to be hidden in this world."

"Huh? Did you just say something right now Chief?"

"No, it's nothing. More importantly, how is the witness?"

Abberline had not replied as instantly as he typically would have. What seemed to be hesitation, flickered briefly across the young man's face before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. "About that Sir…We've just received a call from the hospital saying that she's woken up but they say she might not be mentally ready for an interrogation with the police yet."

"That still doesn't change the fact that she'll still be questioned."

"But S-Sir… She's only a child – a fifteen year old child. That's the same age as Clare!"

The moment the words had left Abberline's mouth, a fierce blush had covered his whole face to the corner of his ears. "Er, one of my cousin's daughters Sir."

"So your niece. That would explain why you've been so sympatric towards the girl lately."

"…Sorry, Chief. I know that personal matters shouldn't interfere with work and I apologize for that."

Sir Randall nodded in commendation of the young man's recognition of his own mistake, however, that alone did not save Fred Abberline from his superior's harsh words which soon followed.

"Abberline, allow me to tell you something: Elise Marie is not your cousin's daughter. Even if she was, there is no need to feel sympathetic for her. If you've seen the world as much as I have, you'll be surprised at how the most innocent ones almost always turn out to be the most corrupted."

"… Then Sir, are you suggesting that perhaps that girl is the culprit?"

"Did I ever say she couldn't be?"

The older man spoke no more, and Abberline, not daring to press for more, forcibly dragged himself down to the local hospital alongside with his superior.

_**I'm alive, I'm alive**_

_**I can feel you all around me  
Thickening the air I'm breathing  
Holding on to what I'm feeling  
Savouring this heart that's healing**_

_**- "All Around Me" by Flyleaf**_

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Ehehehe. Guess who has long, red hair ;)

Truth be told, in the anime and manga, Arthur Randall isn't a chief. He's just an ordinary officer of Scotland Yard and Fred Abberline is his partner, not his apprentice. But for convenience sake, I'm keeping things the way they are. Too lazy to change the details lah.

To all those who are curious, the original/draft version of Ave Maria can be found on my profile under Original Stories. Like I said before, it was originally meant to be for an English speech assignment which, on the day, I died of embarrassment. I was red as a tomato, literally, for two minutes and ten seconds. LOL.

Thanks for reading nevertheless. Reviews are the bomb.


	4. Melody 03: Honey Over Vinegar

**Disclaimer: **SilentSerenata does not own Kuroshitsuji.

**Thought Bubble: **And I'm back with _another_ English assessment gone Kuro fic! I had thought for sure I would never return to writing fanfics again thanks to overwhelming school commitments. Guess I was wrong.

**WARNING: Slight sexual content as we take on the perspective of a madman. **

FYI, no Ciel or Sebastian this chapter. Hehe, and just when things were going for the better too.

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**A v e M a r i a**

[Forsaken Memories]

_- SilentSerenata_

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_**All around me are familiar faces  
Worn out places  
Worn out faces  
Bright and early for the daily races  
Going nowhere  
Going nowhere**_

**Melody 03: Honey Over Vinegar.**

_**Con fuoco.**_

The woman giggled as soft, seductive kisses trailed along the nape of her neck, scorching her bare skin and shading her cheeks a luscious pink. Her voice resounded in the confines of the dimly light room as a moan escaped from her lips at the touch of something moist ravishing at her breasts. She felt her heart skip a beat.

Smooth fingers gently, playfully, stroked the curves of her body, exploring every inch of her delicate flesh. Her breathing quickened and it was not long before the heat consumed her entirely and had her melting into his sensual caresses. The sweet pain of burning pleasure was overwhelming. Enthralled by the ecstasy, she crashed her lips upon his, almost savagely, begging for more.

The man smirked.

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_Knock. Knock._

"Father Mephisto?"

"Yes?"

"The public have gathered at the Grand Hall; mass be will commencing very shortly."

"I see. I'll be immediately there."

As the Sister's light footsteps departed the hallway, Mephisto eyed one last glance at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. A frown was etched upon his face, his deep-blue eyes undoubtedly displeased by the sight presented before him. It was not his long black Priest's robes, or the cross that he adorned around his neck, or his short blonde hair that bothered him. It was the dark, red blotch on his skin, his collarbone to be exact, that had manifested overnight. Irritated, he scratched at the bite mark, almost drawing blood with his nails, before hiding it behind his buttoned white collar and proceeding to complete his morning preparations.

_Damn those mosquitoes._

* * *

The woman flinched when she felt something cold brush against her rosy cheeks.

She had expected her partner to carry on with his lascivious foreplay or to voluptuously devour her in the act of his impatience. She had expected him to sweep her off her feet, the entwining of their naked bodies a breathtaking, invigorating, orgiastic experience. She had expected him to proclaim his undying love for her all the while, but to her chagrin, there she was, perplexed as to when, where and why his sexual gratification had ceased.

Did she not succumb to his advances just as he had desired? What more could he be asking for?

Whatever did she do wrong?

The woman was given no time to contemplate or question her partner as fear gnawed from the submerged depths of her instinctive rationality, fuelling her bewilderment further. Panic bubbled as the woman realised something was amiss. Her arms – they wouldn't move. She tugged harder and when her efforts proved fruitless, she strained her neck to cast an upward glance. She saw that her hands had been bounded to the bedpost. The sweltering heat that had engulfed her mind and body in flames vanished at once. Instead, she felt that something, that coldness, press against her cheek. She knew what it was.

"No – wait – please – you're a – you wouldn't dare – !"

As if noticing her discomfort, the soft, seductive kisses returned at once.

* * *

Mephisto winced at the sudden, stinging sensation that had prickled at his index finger, the tiny droplet of blood seeping through the torn skin. He quickly fumbled about the room in search of a bandaid though to no luck. Mephisto, with a sigh of defeat, grabbed at his bed side tissues, hoping the soft fabric along with some pressure would cease the bleeding. When all the blood had been wiped away, Mephisto examined the harm dealt upon his finger by his sowing needle, the said culprit lying unashamed on the wooden floor despite such an attack.

'_And on a Father at that!_' pouted Mephisto, almost childishly, as a smile graced his lips.

… Or was that a smirk?

* * *

There was a sickly, honey-scented aroma wafting about the bedroom. The woman cried out but her voice was muffled by a gag, her words drowned in the abyssal of her throat before they could resound like music to his ears.

Mephisto continued to trace soft, seductive kisses along the nape of her neck, smooth fingers playfully squeezing at her skin and dying her body a dark red. He could feel, see, hear and smell every inch, every curve, every rise and fall of the woman's body as he touched every fibre of her body. His breathing quickened and it was not long before the heat consumed him entirely.

The sight was overwhelming; this was the fleeting beauty that he had admired so much about her.

* * *

"_In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit…"_

Mephisto licked at his lips as he picked an apple from the orchid and allowed his teeth to sink into its succulent insides.

_Amen._

_**I find it kind of sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had  
I find it hard to tell you  
I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles it's a very very  
Mad world**_

_**- "Mad World" by Gary Jules**_

* * *

Did ya like it?


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